Durlkard, 12/3/1898
The dusty yellow sand sat on everything, it was a prominent feature of this rock, in fact the only real feature worth noting if George Hulme was honest. This godforsaken rock was nearly halfway between the Dread Empire and Tarkanese Federation, it had been "discovered" in 1834 by some storm tossed whalers but few had been able to return to it's short shores. Last year though someone had managed to get an accurate longitudinal fix on the island, it was needed. For the most part the island was a scant few feet higher than the pounding seas but the west end held a darkened mound, maybe 300 feet across and 40 feet high. Now standing at it's edge, Hulme could see a prime spot to plant the flag, just the east of the top there was a narrow crack in the earth. "Up there, bring the flag" Hulme called to the band of marines gatheriing behind him. As a political commissioner in the navy, he had been assigned to take this scrap of land for the Tarkanese Federation, not that he though it was worth much but the crowding back in Coveton was becoming a nightmare with every new citizen. It was hoped to build an outpost here to alleviate the growing problem, though it looked to be a lot drier that Coveton. Carefully picking his way to the top, he noticed the rock became very firm under foot, almost like iron. Upon reaching the cleft, he motioned for the marine holding the flag to bring it forward. Hulme aligned it into the cleft and with some wooden lengths propped the pole upright. As the flag was raised barely above their heads, they broke out in three huzzahs and tasted with rum from a small barrel someone had stashed in the boats.
All in all, it was a good day for Hulme and the Federation, it was a win win situation. As instructed before laving he placed a pewter plate with the date, names of the men and their ship, the St Nicolas, which was riding at anchor not two miles to the North East of Hulme's position a dull grey shape sitting low against the water, sprouting two square rigged masts. She was a fine vessel, representing the Federation's new naval forces well. As he lowered the plate into the cleft, something caught his eye. There a glint, in the bottom of a crack. He reached in, fumbing but grasping a pebble in his fingers. Bringing it out, he examined the stone, a semi opaque rock almost like glass. "Somebody get me Frasier" He called down the slope.
Five minutes later, Hulme was awaiting appraisal of the rock from Sergeant Frasier, who by luck was married to the only jeweller in the Federation. "Yeah I'm pretty certain that's a diamond" Frasier said, examining the pebble "Maybe 8, definitely 6 carats, I'd say there's a diamond pipe in that mound, judging from the few we've found" Hulme was resisting the urge to stuff his pockets full of them. "Well then gather as many as you can find, we are due back in 5 days so we'll have to leave before dusk." It was not long before the men had turned up a small knapsack worth of the rocks, Hulme carefully watching the men to ensure none found their way inside of a pocket.
The groan of the winch as the anchor was heaved out of the water, Hulme sat at his cabin desk and wrote out a report urging another voyage as soon as possible to seize this valuable asset
